


I might have drowned

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She feels weightless but anchored, like a zero-G mechanic repairing the Ark, tethered but without gravity.</i>  </p>
<p>Kabby fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I might have drowned

They leave first thing in the morning, although the sun is already rising.  After forty years of perfectly regulated days and nights on the Ark, the lengthening of the daylight hours as the seasons shift is still something that surprises her.  

 

She waits with their packs while he signs them out with the Guard at the gate.  

 

There was a time when she’d have been uneasy at the thought of herself and Marcus being absent from Camp Jaha at the same time.  She was reluctant to even step outside the fence in the early days of their peace treaty with the Grounders, when their people were struggling to recover from Mount Weather while facing the inevitable internal tensions that came to the fore with the loss of their common enemies.  That was before the harsh reality of their first winter on the ground forced them to work together again to survive into spring.  Their lives improved along with the weather, and as the days stretch out into summer she no longer doubts Bellamy’s dedication to forging a unified camp.  She’s comfortable enough now to walk away with Marcus on a scouting mission that’s likely to take most of the day. 

 

Marcus arranges his pack on his shoulders before adjusting the strap of his gun.  He refolds the hand-drawn map provided by Lincoln and Octavia that he’d shown the Guard on the gate.  “The clearing is about ten kilometres to the north.  Shouldn't take too long to get there.”  

 

They stride into the woods at a steady pace, beginning their journey along paths that have grown familiar over the past eight months.   

 

The sun rises higher in the sky as the paths become less familiar.  The heat increases rapidly despite the shade of the trees, and she feels beads of sweat gathering at her forehead.  When they pause to check the map she takes a long drink from her water bottle.   

 

“This is going to be quite a trek for the kids.”  He turns the map, then adjusts their route slightly, leading her across a deep rocky gorge where the air is cooler. 

 

“Another reason to refuse Octavia’s request.”  They climb the ridge back into dense woodland where the air is thick and hot. 

 

“Not necessarily.  As long as we take it slow, bring plenty of water and take regular rest breaks they’ll be fine.” 

 

“Damn it.”  She stops dead in the middle of the path.  “You’re going to vote in her favour, aren’t you?  You’ve already decided.  Why are we wasting a day traipsing through the woods to this damned pond if you’ve already made up your mind?” 

 

“I need to be sure.”  He remains calm in the face of her anger.  “I need to see the route and the surrounding area so that I can assign a Guard patrol to accompany them.  I’m going to lead it myself.” 

 

That makes her feel slightly better, although she’d never admit it. 

 

“I thought it might help you to see it, too.  Octavia’s plan is pretty comprehensive.” 

 

She narrows her eyes and stalks ahead of him on the path.  She hears him hurrying to keep up behind her.  “You think it’ll be approved by the Council.  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.  If you and Bellamy are both in favour of it, the others will just roll over and follow you blindly.  Like children.” 

 

“That’s not fair.” 

 

He’s right, and she knows it.  She just hates that the majority of the Council is below the age of 25, and despite her position as Chancellor she still has to fight to get her opinions taken seriously. 

 

“But it does look like her request will be approved.” 

 

“Unless I use my veto.” 

 

“Hmm.” 

 

His answer is non-committal and it immediately puts her guard up. 

 

She lets him draw level with her again so that she can study him as they walk.  “Is that what this is about?  Are you trying to buy my vote?” 

 

He sighs.  “I’m just trying to show you that Octavia’s plan is not as bad as you think.  We asked her to teach ground skills to the younger kids.  Swimming is a ground skill that she can’t teach inside the camp.  So far, most of those kids’ only experience of the ground is crashing into it while the Ark fell apart around them.  They’ve spent almost every moment since then inside the fence.” 

 

“Where it’s safe!  I have the greatest respect for Bellamy, and Octavia, and all the others.”  And it’s true, even if she sometimes struggles to show it.  “But we’re talking about the kids who came down with the Ark.  They don’t have the same knack for survival.” 

 

“We’re at peace with the Grounders.  This pond is well within our agreed territory.  A few kilometres outside the fence is almost as safe as inside the camp.” 

 

“What about wildlife?”  She can’t believe that he’s actually considering this.  “Or poisonous plants?  Or unexpected weather?  There are still rogue Grounders out here, and the last of the Reapers.  Not to mention falling trees, sudden cliffs, rivers and streams-”  She stops, but it’s too late. 

 

He has the grace not to gloat, although she thinks he’s struggling to hide a grin.  “All the more reason to teach them to swim.”  He brings them to a stop this time, his hand on her arm.  “Abby.”  His expression is earnest.  “We can’t prepare them for life on the ground by keeping them behind the fence forever.  But that’s not the main reason I intend to vote in favour of Octavia’s plan.  Don’t you think that those kids, _all_ of the kids, deserve to have some fun?” 

 

Damn him.  She’s the one who’s always trying to encourage the children to actually _be children_ , even when everyone around her is declaring them adults, warriors, ground experts, Council members and leaders of the camp.  She hadn’t considered that Octavia’s proposed swimming trip might be a way for all the younger members of the camp to let off steam.  To be fair though, swimming wasn’t something that immediately crossed her mind when thinking about fun things to do, probably because she’d never had the chance to try it. 

 

They walk on in silence for a few minutes before she sighs.  She tells herself that she’s enough of an adult to face this with an open mind. 

 

“Is swimming fun?” 

 

“Apparently, especially in warm weather.  I asked around and a few people have been out to this spot to swim.”  

 

“But not you.” 

 

He shrugs.  “Never had the time.” 

 

“Chancellor keeping you busy?” 

 

It’s not an apology but he smiles, and she knows he understands. 

 

“Nothing I can’t handle.”  He checks the map again.  “There should be an old boundary of some kind ahead.  We have to follow it, to the north-east.” 

 

She sees a dense wall of trees up ahead, pinpricks of sunlight showing through tiny gaps in the foliage.  “There?” 

 

As they get closer she sees that the boundary is both man-made and natural.  Rusted metal railings, slightly warped with time, stretch up over their heads before curving into ornamental curls.  The surrounding trees have tried to reclaim the land, growing up and around and through the metal bars, trunks and branches taking the shape of the gaps they fill.  The weave of wood and metal forms an almost impenetrable wall. 

 

“The pond is pretty much directly ahead of us, but we’ve got to go around this.” 

 

“There’s no way through?” 

 

“Octavia and Lincoln couldn’t find one.” 

 

“It’s impressive.”  She presses a palm against the solid trunk of a tree that has split in two to grow around a metal spike.   

 

They follow the boundary until the railings stop at what must have once been a gatepost.  The other post is nowhere to be seen.  Marcus leads her around the gatepost and back along the other side of the boundary through a thin spread of trees. 

 

Then suddenly they emerge into the clearing. 

 

“Wow.”  She lifts a hand to shade her eyes from the sparkling sunlight reflected off the pond.  It’s far from the largest body of water that she’s seen since landing on the ground, but for once it’s not the epic expanse of the landscape that takes her breath away. 

 

The clearing is a straight-edged patch of peace and tranquillity deep within the woods.  The pond follows the same outline, a long rectangle of green-tinted water that stretches away to the opposite treeline.  The bank where they’re standing forms one of the shorter sides of the rectangle, covered in tall grass but largely free from trees or shrubs.  The other three banks are crowded with trees that touch the water’s edge, roots erupting from soil to blur the straight lines of the bank.  The boughs spill across the water, creating dappled patterns of shade.  It’s almost idyllic. 

 

It’s also much bigger than she was expecting. 

 

“From what Octavia said, I imagined it to be smaller.” 

 

She smiles when he echoes her thoughts.  “It’s going to be hard to keep an eye on all the kids in a pond this big.  It’s practically a lake.” 

 

“Octavia will just have to bring enough adults to help her supervise.” 

 

They cross the tall grass to the edge of the water, leaving their packs on the ground.  Up close the pond is pale green and slightly murky. 

 

She kneels and trails a hand through the water.  Something tickles at her fingers and she pulls her hand up quickly to find a tiny green frond trailing from her fingers.  “Is that some kind of algae?” 

 

“It’s harmless.”  He crouches beside her, studying the surface.  “Sinclair sent a second survey team out here yesterday.”  He gives her a quick smile.  “You're not the only one with misgivings.  The water quality is pretty good and they’ve confirmed Lincoln’s belief that there’s no aquatic wildlife here.  It’s not being used as a watering hole for land based animals either, as far as we can tell.” 

 

“As far as we can tell.”  She glances towards the edges of the clearing, but nothing stirs at the treeline. 

 

He scrapes some earth away from the water’s edge.  “The bank here is partly stone of some kind.  Like a wall.” 

 

She looks down.  “Could've been part of a formal garden.” 

 

“That would explain the old railings.”  He dips his fingers into the water to wash away the dirt. 

 

He insists on making a slow circuit of the pond, combing the trees and bushes on the three other banks.  She's not sure what he's looking for, exactly, but he seems satisfied when they circle back to where they started.  

 

It was hot, sweaty work, climbing over tightly knotted roots and through dense thickets.  She wipes a hand across her forehead and takes another long drink from her water bottle. 

 

He lifts the strap of his weapon over his head and places the gun beside his pack. 

 

“There’s no need to look so smug, Marcus.” 

 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender.  “I’m not.  I’m just glad that it’s as safe as Octavia said.”  He leans down to unlace his boots. 

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

“I’m going swimming to cool off.”  He pulls his t-shirt over his head then unfastens his pants and steps out of them, folding both items neatly.  “Coming?”  Without waiting for an answer he strides back down towards the water. 

 

She watches him walk away, unable to decide if she’s relieved or disappointed that he’s kept his underwear on.  He reaches the edge and sits on the bank with his feet hanging over into the water.  She can’t keep her eyes off the planes of his back.  She traces the wings of his shoulder blades and the shape of muscles sitting beneath skin that’s no longer as pale as it was when they lived in space.  She’s seen him without a shirt before, in Medical, on the Ark and on the ground.  In a professional capacity it wouldn’t phase her, but here, in the woods with nothing around them but nature, it feels completely different. 

 

Then he looks back over his shoulder, and she realises that she’s staring.  They’re just going swimming.  It’s fine. 

 

She’s wearing summer clothes (and it's still a novelty, having to adjust clothing to suit the season), so it doesn’t take long to strip down to her vest and underwear.   

 

The grass tickles her bare feet as she walks down to join him on the shaded half of the bank.  At this time of day the uneven line where shade and sun meet bisects the length of the pond, but with trees on three sides there should always be plenty of shade to protect anyone swimming.  Another plus point for Octavia.  They’ve had far too many incidents of sunburn already. 

 

She looks into the water with some trepidation.  It’s not that she’s afraid, exactly, but the concept of climbing into the expanse of water is still somewhat alien to her.  It’s not like taking a shower, or washing in the stream near Camp Jaha.  The surface is calm, as it has been since they first arrived, but the water is still murky enough to look slightly forbidding. 

 

She tests the depth at the edge with a long stick.  She estimates it would probably be about knee height.  “How deep do you think it goes?” 

 

“Only one way to find out.”  He slides into the water with a small splash.  “Ah, that’s cold.” 

 

Placing the stick to one side, she sits on the bank and drops her feet into the pond, gasping at the shock of cold water against her skin.  It’s soothing though, on feet that are still burning from a hike through the woods in the heat of summer.  She stands, and finds that the depth is shallow, as she thought, barely reaching her knees.  The bottom of the pond feels rough against her bare feet, and the slippery algae tickles her ankles.  The ground slopes gently away from the bank and the grit works its way between her toes as she wades in further. 

 

Ahead of her, he moves slowly but confidently towards the centre of the pond, stopping when the water laps at his shoulders.  “It’s still getting deeper, but I think I’ll stop here.” 

 

She’s more cautious, stopping when the water reaches her waist.   After growing up in an environment where every molecule of water was rationed, it feels strange to be standing submerged in it now.  She bounces slightly, moving her hands beneath the surface and testing the resistance.  “This could be really good for Raven.  Water therapy.”  

 

He moves back towards her, leaving ripples in his wake.  “This would be really good for everyone.  It’s getting so warm now, and people are queuing up at the shower block just to cool down.  I know we’ve got the stream but even that’s not the same as being able to swim in a pond.  We’d have to set up some kind of a rotation, can't have the entire camp turning up here in one go…”  He trails off, clearly already making plans. 

 

“Maybe we’ll see how Octavia’s trip works out, and take it from there.” 

 

He looks at her but doesn’t comment on the fact that she’s talking about the trip like it might actually happen.  Instead he moves a hand through the water, stirring it in a slow circle.  “Swimming was never part of Earth Skills on the Ark.” 

 

She wades back to the edge, grabbing the stick from the bank to test the depth at other points.   “How could it have been?” 

 

“I know, but I’m just wondering.  How do we teach ourselves to swim?” 

 

“Octavia managed to teach herself.”  She finds more remnants of the wall that forms the edge of the pond.  It’s cracked and damaged, and like the boundary railings, nature has filled in the gaps.  “And I imagine all the other people who’ve been out here must have managed as well.  It can’t be that hard.  Just don’t sink.” 

 

He snorts.  “That’s helpful.” 

 

But she remembers something then.  “Try floating.”  It’s odd, to use the word in such a different context.  “Flat on your back, head in the water.” 

 

She watches as he leans back in the water, as though he’s about to sit down.  He tips his head all the way back and she sees his feet emerge at the surface. 

 

“It works!” 

 

She laughs when his pleased surprise causes him to sit up slightly, which in turn makes him sink again.  “Just be careful.” 

 

She turns back to the bank and follows the wall.  It stretches the width of the pond before making a right-angle at the corner, but then seems to disappear completely less than a metre along the longer bank.  She follows the bank for a few metres but doesn’t find any trace of it.  The water gets deeper along that side of the pond so she stops and looks up. 

 

Marcus is still floating, drifting towards the centre of the pond. 

 

“Don’t go too far.”  She has to raise her voice a little because of the distance.  “We don’t know how deep it is out there.” 

 

She can’t tell if she startled him, or if he panicked for a moment when he realised how far he’d gone, but something throws off his equilibrium.  His body dips and he flails, splashing water as he somehow flips over and his head dips below the surface for a few seconds. 

 

“Marcus!”  She hurries to reach him, as fast as the resistance of the water will allow.  It’s painfully slow, and by the time she gets there he has recovered his balance somewhat, standing with his head slightly bent as he chokes. 

 

The water is deep, deeper than she wants it to be, but she can still stand up with the surface lapping at her shoulders.  She grabs his arm to hold him up then brings her other hand down hard on his back.  She stands beside him to avoid the water that spurts from his nose and mouth. 

 

“It’s okay.”  Abby speaks soothingly even as she thumps his back again.  

 

Eventually he stops coughing and wipes his face on his arm. 

 

“As your doctor, I don't recommend inhaling the water.”  She rubs his back sympathetically.  “Do you want to get out?” 

 

He shakes his head.  “It’s funny.”  He coughs again, but now it sounds like he’s clearing his throat rather than choking.  “I never thought I’d die by drowning.”  

 

“Maybe I should teach you mouth-to-mouth.”  

 

It’s a careless statement that spills from her lips with ease before hanging heavy in the air between them. 

 

She sees his eyes dart down to her mouth then back up to her eyes.  Maybe it’s the proximity, or the heat of the day, or the tranquillity of this little oasis in the middle of the woods.  Maybe they’re both just tired of holding it back.  She doesn’t know, and at this point she can’t bring herself to care. 

 

His face fills her vision and she can feel his breath, still a little harsh after his close encounter with the pond water.  When he hesitates, a scant few millimetres separating them, she closes the gap herself. 

 

It’s certainly wetter than any other kiss that she’s experienced, even before his mouth opens wider, allowing her tongue to slip past his lips.  Their skin is as slippery as their tongues, and there's surprisingly little friction as she runs her hands up his arms to his shoulders.  Their mouths separate then reconnect at a slightly different angle.  Water drips from his sodden hair onto both their faces, trickling down their necks and returning to the pond. 

 

He takes a step back and she follows, grasping his shoulders tightly when her head nearly dips beneath the surface.  She's out of her depth now, but he's still standing so she kicks her feet up to wrap her legs around his waist.  For the first time in her life she’s grateful for their height difference. 

 

The water helps her to balance, leaving her hands free to slide through his wet hair and down his shoulders and back beneath the surface of the water, tracing the path she’d followed with her eyes when she’d watched him from the bank.  His hands are trailing their own path across her body, down her back, hot and heavy against the bare skin that he finds where her top doesn’t quite meet her underwear. 

 

She's pretty sure this wouldn't work on dry land.  She'd overbalance, or he'd have to use his hands to hold her up.  It would be graceless and uncomfortable and they'd never be able to sustain it.  Everything feels lighter in the water, and slower, and almost elegant. 

 

She had thought that the cool liquid would dull her senses, but instead she feels everything more keenly thanks to the contrast it creates.  The heat of his mouth and hands feels more intense through the cool water enveloping her body. 

 

The frantic movements of their hands beneath the water creates gentle waves that lap against their shoulders at the surface.  She feels weightless but anchored, like a zero-G mechanic repairing the Ark, tethered but without gravity.  And she almost doesn’t care that they’re in the middle of the woods, alone, supposedly on Camp business… 

 

She feels the moment that the same realisation comes to him.  His posture stiffens, but he eases them slowly from the kiss, separating from her with a final almost delicate brush of his nose against hers. 

 

They’ve always been good at communicating without words, even when that communication conveyed only scorn and disapproval.  Once upon a time she’d thought his eyes were cold.  As she stares into them now she sees anything but coldness in their depths.   

 

She presses her forehead to his, blinking drops of water from her eyelashes.  “I guess this isn’t really the time.” 

 

His smile is rueful.  “Later?” 

 

“Later.”  She leans back a little, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders.  “This better not be another dirty tactic to buy my vote.” 

 

“No.”  His grin widens.  “But you can’t deny that this is fun.” 

 

“I suppose it is.”  She pretends to frown.  “But we’re not really swimming.”  She squeezes her legs around his.  “You’re still standing.” 

 

“You want to swim?”  He grins turns wicked.  “Hold on around my neck.  I've got an idea.”  

 

She loops her arms loosely around his neck.  “Should I be worried?”   

 

He’s probably giving her an exasperated look but their faces are so close together she can’t really tell.  His hands slide down her sides to her hips.  She groans when his hands brush along the curve of her backside, catching on the edge of her underwear.  With a sharp intake of breath he quickly moves his hands to grip her thighs, holding her tightly against him. 

 

“I thought we said later.”  Her own voice sounds breathless in her ears.  

 

He takes another breath, as though to steady himself, then lifts her legs away from his. 

 

She gasps and clings to his neck more tightly, her face pressing against his shoulder.  “What are you doing?  I’m way out of my depth here.” 

 

“That’s why you’re going to swim.  Just keep holding on.”  The hands supporting her lower body squeeze her hips gently.  “You’ll have to loosen your arms a little if this is going to work.  Then stretch your legs out behind you and kick your feet a bit, just enough to keep them near the surface.”  

 

His hands slide back up her body and she kicks her feet gently so that her lower body rises to the surface.  He lifts her hands from his neck, gripping her wrists gently but firmly. 

 

“Marcus.”  She’s slightly alarmed now.  The only thing holding her face out of the water and keeping her upper body from sinking is his hands.  She keeps her arms so taut that it hurts. 

 

“Trust me.” 

 

He takes a step backwards, away from her, maintaining his grip.  She tightens her hands around his wrists, in an echo of a Grounder handshake.  Their arms straighten, and then he tugs her gently towards him as he steps back again. 

 

“Kick your legs, Abby.” 

 

A heavy shower of water rains down on them both. 

 

“Sorry.” 

 

She grins through watery eyes as he shakes his head to clear his vision.  He keeps walking backwards slowly, stepping carefully, pulling her across the width of the pond where the depth is consistent.  The water gets a little shallower as they reach the edge, and he turns them both and starts walking back the way they came. 

 

He's still holding her up at the front but she's propelling herself forwards now, almost too quickly for him.  Her arms move instinctively, pulling their joined hands from side to side. 

 

“Marcus,” she laughs, spluttering through the water that continues to arch down onto them from the spray at her feet and the waves caused by their arms.  “Am I swimming?” 

 

“Depends. You ready to let go of my hands?” 

 

“Never.”  

 

But she opens her fingers and he releases her wrists, letting her hands slip free.  At the same time he steps aside, out of her path.  She flails slightly with the loss of support, but by increasing her arm movements she manages to keep afloat and in motion. 

 

They’d had recordings, back on the Ark, of swimming heats at the old Olympic Games.  She remembers how each swimmer would cut effortlessly through the water like a Grounder’s arrow, leaving barely a splash in their wake.  In contrast, she’s moving slowly and laboriously, sending water flying in all directions as she kicks her legs and moves her arms.  She has to hold her head at an unnatural angle to keep it out of the water (she’s not ready to put her face in the water yet), and she keeps having to boost herself along with a kick of her toes against the bottom whenever her energy wanes.  It’s not graceful, but nobody can deny that she’s doing it. 

 

She reaches the bank again and turns, swimming back towards Marcus.  He’s floating on his back, but with his head raised to watch her progress, as he sweeps his arms in lazy strokes. 

 

He smiles when their eyes meet.  “Now you’re swimming, Abby.” 

 

**End**

_This summer I went swimming,_

_This summer I might have drowned_

_But I held my breath and I kicked my feet_

_And I moved my arms around,_

_I moved my arms around._

 

( _Swimming Song_ , Loudon Wainwright III)


End file.
